


To Catch Your Tears

by LamentingQuill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Not DH-compliant, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamentingQuill/pseuds/LamentingQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ron share a moment before the coming battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Catch Your Tears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mk_malfoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/gifts).



** To Catch Your Tears **

by

_Lamenting Quill_

* * *

 

 

Tomorrow. Such a simple word, but for Harry Potter it meant so much more than merely another day. It would be _the_ day. The ‘Great Battle’ as they were so cleverly calling it. The world was heavy on his laden shoulders, and everywhere he went he was forced to look into the eyes of countless people who were depending on him. What if he failed them? Well, at least if he failed he wouldn’t be around to see the disappointment in their once hopeful gazes.

He wasn’t worried about himself, but about those placing their trust within him. He was leading them possibly to their deaths or even worse – his closest friends, the only thing he had that resembled family: Hermione, Remus, Hagrid, the Weasleys… Ron. This last thought made him pause in his pacing. There were so many words he had failed to say over the years and tomorrow may come and go leaving him with no way to say them at all.

Would it be better to have voiced your feelings and be rejected before dying, or to die with the regret of never having tried; of never telling that special someone how you feel? He wasn’t sure. Neither option particularly appealed to him. He released a sigh of frustration in the dark hall of Grimmauld Place. He would have to make a decision soon, for it was already late and the dawn would come quick.

Harry wrapped his arms tightly around himself and rested his forehead against the dingy wall. Sleep would never come this night. He was too burdened, too afraid of what might happen – of failing. Their plan was good, he had no doubts, and the Order was capable. But the plan didn’t matter, the Order didn’t matter. It was between him and Voldemort, and only one would be standing by sundown.

He felt sorrow burn the back of this throat. If he were to be the one to fall he couldn’t even imagine the world his friends would be forced to live in. It would be a world of despair and suffering, of degradation and lamentation. These were dark and troubled times, yes, but in comparison to a world where Voldemort ruled they were nothing. He had rather those he cared about meet their deaths than be forced to live their lives in the servitude of the Dark Lord.

A warm hand fell suddenly, gently, on Harry’s shoulder. He didn’t jump. He almost didn’t even feel it, for he felt almost nothing but fear. He didn’t turn to see who the hand belonged to. He knew. He didn’t want to face its owner right now, for he was afraid of what might be showing in his eyes.

“Harry,” the voice whispered softly, “come on, go to bed. It’s late.”

Harry let the voice soothe him and calm his nerves, but he still didn’t turn. He didn’t speak either, in fear of what might spill off his tongue – unsure whether or not he wanted to say the words that would surely make their escape.

“Listen, Harry. I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be going through right now, and I think it unfair that this burden is yours. But you’ve got to stop worrying about what might happen. We all know what we’re facing, and we’re all prepared to face it. Don’t beat yourself up over something that you have no control over. Tomorrow we fight – _we,_ Harry, not just you. Maybe we’ll win, maybe we’ll lose. But whatever happens at least we tried, and at least we will have fought for what’s right.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Ron,” Harry whispered before he could stop the words, and cursed himself for the catch in his voice. He clamped his mouth shut once more before he said something foolish that would complicate the entire situation further.

“Hey,” Ron said softly, pulling on his shoulder. “Harry, look at me.”

He turned around slowly, not meeting the redhead’s gaze. He felt his tears threatening to fall, and he didn’t want Ron to see him cry. Salted water would change nothing, had no power when in drops to change his fate. Still they fought to be released. He felt one of Ron’s fingers come to rest beneath his chin, lifting his face, and when their eyes met Harry felt more exposed than he could ever recall feeling.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” Ron said slowly, eyes conveying the deeper meaning behind his words.

Harry could no longer hold back the torment that wished to escape, and wetness gathered slowly on his lashes before making its descent. “If I had known sooner-” Harry started, pain lacing his voice, but was interrupted by a finger against his lips.

“Don’t, Harry. We’re here now, and that’s all that matters. If we only have this moment, it’s enough.”

Harry felt his chest tighten. So much was riding on tomorrow – his hopes, his dreams… a chance at life and love with this man in front of him. He loved Ron, had loved him for several years, but had never been able to tell him. He raised his hand, trying to stop the embarrassing flow of tears that wouldn’t cease, but his hand was brushed away.

“Don’t,” said Ron again, bringing both of his hands up to rest on Harry’s dampened cheeks and taking a step closer. “My hands were made to catch your tears.”

Harry brought his own hands up to rest over top of Ron’s, giving them a gentle squeeze. His throat was constricted around his happiness in this moment and with the sorrow of the coming dawn, but he somehow managed to speak. “And what were your lips made to do?” he whispered, his breath catching as Ron closed the remaining distance between them, their noses brushing lightly.

“Kiss you,” he breathed, meeting Harry’s lips in a desperate kiss full of a deep longing and a deeper passion. They weren’t promised a future, but they had right now.

It was enough.

 

 


End file.
